


What You Find When You're Not Looking

by EllieCee



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All my fave tropes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Unexpected feelings, sexual tension you could cut with a knife, stubborn josie and cullen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:48:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: After the Inquisition disbands, Cullen loses his purpose and Josephine is once again handed the weight of the world.When Josephine's father tells her that there is help needed on a new family business, she recommends Cullen, and he follows her home to Antiva, where she is now to take her place as the head of house Montilyet.Amidst the change, the responsibilities, and the commotion, they both spark something that's too bright to ignore.





	What You Find When You're Not Looking

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. God I've fallen into the rarepair hell that is Josie/Cullen. So of course I had to write something. 
> 
> 2\. I know the Antivan language is based off Italian and Spanish. But I know absolutely no Italian, and I'm mildly proficient in Spanish I decided to go with that. However, I'm not fluent so if I make any mistakes feel free to correct me. 
> 
> 3\. Let's pray I finish this slow burn.

The first thing Cullen does in Antiva is sweat.

He could still feel the ocean waves wrack in his stomach when they walked off the boat, and the hot, humid air didn’t help a bit. They’d arrived at dusk, but the sun disappearing at the horizon did nothing to cool the heat.

He must press through, however. He managed to follow Josephine into the carriage and hoped deeply that travel by this way wouldn’t be rattle him like the sea. He’d only ever ridden _on_ a horse, never on anything pulled by one.

The inside was snug, smelled strongly of polished wood, but comfortable enough. It wasn’t until that Josephine took her place beside him that he noted their proximity. They’d become good friends over the past years – but they’d never been this close. He felt a bit awkward, like he’d swallowed up the appropriate space, but she remained unbothered.

He silently told himself to stop acting like a child.

“All right?” Josephine asked as the carriage began. The circles under her eyes showed the lack of sleep she’d gotten on their weeks-long travel.

“Yes,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t notice how ill the sea had made him.

A faint smile appeared on her face.

“It’ll take thirty minutes for the seasickness to steady. Although we’re in a moving vehicle, so it might take longer,” she replied.

Cullen looked at her in disbelief, before sighing in relief. She laughed softly.

“I’ve been around ships my whole like, Cullen,” she said, “I can tell.”

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” he replied.

She put a comforting hand on his wrist.

“Hush, I brought you here,” she said.

He responded with a smile.

“Oh, and something else,” Josephine began again.

She turned and dug for something in the pocket of her dress.

“What?” Cullen asked.

Josephine handed him a handkerchief. It was a light blue silk, embroidered with an ornate design in a dark blue thread. It felt more expensive than anything he’d ever owned.

“What’s this for?”

“Your face is soaking wet with sweat,” she said, “The weather here will take a little getting used to, especially if you’re Fereldan.”

Cullen hesitated to use it – it felt too delicate and expensive. He wondered how anyone managed to use anything that looked like it cost a month’s pay.

“I was a bad friend to haul you here and not prepare you for the climate change,” she joked.

“I’ll get used to it.”

“I do hope. We can’t have you melting.”

Cullen laughed.

The carriage turned and left the port, entering the city. Cullen found himself enveloped by an orchestra of noises and smells, yet he couldn’t help but look at the way the sunset had painted itself on Josephine’s profile.

 

-

 

By the time they’ve reached the estate, it was nearing midnight. Six hours of a carriage rattling across bumpy roads and pebbles didn’t sit well in Cullen’s stomach either, but it wasn’t as wrathful as the sea. Nightfall had made the heat more bearable, much to his relief.

They’d stopped somewhere for a half-hour during the journey to feed the horses. Josephine had asked him if he wanted something to eat. He’d declined, partly out of politeness, and partly because being somewhere so new had done numbers to his stomach (along with the seasickness).

The carriage stopped right by the gates. It was opened for them and soon, servants were scurrying to carry their belongings in. Cullen hadn’t much time to protest that he could do it himself before two of them had taken all his luggage. He couldn’t lie, exhaustion hung in his bones and he was a secretly grateful he didn’t have to drag them in.

He followed Josephine up the stone walkway. Night had veiled much of the estate, but he marveled from what he could see. Skyhold was larger, but something about this estate made it seem grander. He could see outlines of stylishly designed spires and sidings. The bright yellow stone managed to burst through the darkness.

Fereldan buildings were built to be practical. He wondered how something that looked so ornate managed to stand.

The large front doors opened as a warm orange light welcomed them from inside.

Josephine’s face lit up.

“Papa!” she cried, wasting no time in jumping in his arms.

Cullen felt a strange sting in his chest.

“Mija,” he heard Lord Montilyet mumble, “Te eche de menos.”

“Yo también,” Josephine replied, “And Papa, this is Commander Cullen Rutherford. The leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Lord Montilyet turned his eyes to him. Cullen gulped as he slowly read his face, but sighed in relief when it softened into a warmth that was familiar from Josephine.  

“ _Former_ ,” Cullen corrected, feeling inadequate from Josephine’s introduction, “But I am here to help you in whatever way I can.”

“Ahh, yes,” Lord Montilyet said, smiling “Mi nena’s Fereldan knight.”

Josephine’s eyes grew as her face reddened.

“Papa!” she hissed.

Cullen raised his brow.

Lord Montilyet laughed.

“I’m only joking, nena,” he said, “Now come, you both must be tired.”

Josephine willed the blush from her face as they followed him inside. Much of the house was only lit by candlelight, so Cullen assumed everyone else was fast asleep.

 Lord Montilyet insisted they eat something. Cullen wished to object, he felt embarrassed at the notion of people fussing over him, especially at a late hour. But he silently agreed and followed Josephine and Lord Montilyet into a small parlor, and immediately noted the number of rooms in the estate (Maker, he was going to get lost).

And that’s where he learned that it wasn’t only the weather that was burning in Antiva.

They were served a stew and some bread on the side. Cullen’s had his fair share of stews, but none of them were red, nor tickled his nose when he smelled it. Josephine caught his face and gave him a look of amusement.

“It’s venison in tomato sauce,” she said, “With some spices.”

He took a bite, and it tasted good – until a swell of fire covered his tongue, worse than burning his mouth on hot tea. He gasped and felt his nose drip.

He managed to swallow, only to choke just a second later, sucking in air.

Josephine quickly looked up with worry, until she’d realized again.

“Oh dear,” she chuckled, “You’re Fereldan, I’d forgotten. Lo siento.”

He opened his mouth to reply, only to cough. He nearly knocked the mug of water reaching for it, before chugging it down in one go. Though it’d only softened the heat for a few seconds before he began huffing again.

“Maker,” he coughed, “I can’t feel my tongue.”

Josephine laughed again before sending the servant to get him a mug of milk instead.

“Perhaps only bread for tonight?” she added, still stifling in her giggles.

Cullen blushed – wondering if it was because of the intense embarrassment, or from the sound of Josephine’s laughter. She gave him a comforting pat on the arm, which only furthered the heat on his face.

Perhaps yes, just bread for tonight. His stomach would’ve probably betrayed him if he braved the rest of the stew.

 

-

 

Lord Montilyet later led him to the guest house, found amidst their sprawling garden. Cullen had no idea what to expect – growing up in Ferelden he somehow expected a shack.

“Sorry if it’s a little small,” Lord Montilyet said, unlocking the door before handing him the key, “But I assure it’s comfortable.”

The guest house was no grand villa, but it certainly was not small. Cullen thought that maybe it’d just be the size of his office in Skyhold, but it almost matched the full-sized cabins back at Haven.

_Maker, that was so long ago._

“No, this is great,” Cullen said in amazement, “Thank you.”

The walls were the same bright yellow stone as the house. The floor was a deep, rich wood, most of it covered in a bright blue rug. There was a bed by the window, and a nightstand by it. The rest of the space was furnished with a stone fireplace, lounging chairs, a desk, an empty shelf and a wardrobe. Cullen’s never stayed at any place with a lounging chair _for him._ It looked and felt too indulgent, especially when he’d realized that it was lined with soft velvet.

“The servants have already placed your luggage here,” Lord Montilyet pointed out. All of Cullen’s bags lay at the end of the bed.

“And there’s a full washroom back here,” he continued, motioning to the inner corner.

Cullen sucked in his breath in awe. All his life he’d never had his own washroom. He had three siblings, then it was the Chantry, then Templar barracks, then the communal one at Skyhold. He felt it silly that he was able to have this type of luxury – he didn’t deserve it as far as he was concerned.

“I…am grateful for everything my lord,” he managed. With the sea in his stomach and the fire in his tongue just fading, this to top it all rendered him overwhelmed.

“Josephine had written a very, very convincing letter of recommendation for you Commander,” Lord Montilyet explained.

Cullen flushed at the thought.

“My Josephine is a smart, reasonable woman. And I trust her judgment,” Lord Montilyet finished.

“I promise to live up to that,” Cullen quickly assured.

Lord Montilyet smiled.

“It’s all I ask of you. You seem a capable man,” he said, “Tomorrow, you shall join us for breakfast and you can meet the rest of the family. Then after, we will discuss your job position at the vineyard.”

“Of course.”

“The first morning bell rings at dawn. It’ll ring twice more, and then breakfast will be served. I shall see you tomorrow. Good night, Commander Rutherford,” Lord Montilyet said as he exited the house.

“As to you, my lord,” Cullen replied.

 

Cullen took to unpacking, something that never took too long whenever he found himself at a new place. He never had _too much,_ it was always just enough. He dug for his lucky coin in his pocket and found that Josephine’s handkerchief was still there. He should remember to give it back, so he folded it neatly and placed it beside the coin and book he’d brought there.  

He hardly filled his wardrobe, he figured if he did wash twice a week he should be good. He laid his armor at the bottom of it, hoping there wouldn’t a need to use it.  

He laughed to himself as he unpacked his mantle. He _knew_ he was travelling to Antiva and _living there._ He had no idea what possessed him to take it. He took it and hung it on the lounging chair, two things that felt useless to him at the moment.

It was then that the weariness in his bones finally became apparent. He slipped off his clothes and into something more comfortable and sat at the edge of the bed. Perhaps he should write to Mia. But he couldn’t think of where to begin.

Then, he heard a soft knock.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Josephine.”

Cullen shot up and unlocked the door, the cool breeze from the garden swooping in. Josephine stood there, but for a minute he hardly recognized her.

Her hair was loose and she wore her nightclothes. Hardly scandalous, but he’d never, in all their years working together, seen her in such a casual manner. He felt as if he’d seen something he was not allowed to.

“Did you need anything?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“No. I just wanted to check on you,” she replied.

He watched the breeze flit through the long dark waves of her hair.

“I’m good. And eternally grateful for all of this,” he said, “The welcome was more than I expected.”

“Yes. You almost burned your mouth,” she joked.

Cullen chuckled.

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” he added.

 “You’ll be fine. I hope Papa didn’t try to scare you,” she said.

 “Why would he?”

Josephine looked to her feet and fussed with the sleeves of her robe.

“Uhh…nothing. Sometimes he’s like that,” she mumbled, before looking up at him again.

“Does he not like me?” Cullen asked.

“He does!” Josephine piped, “Papa is a bit old-fashioned when it comes to me being around men.”

“Ahh,” Cullen said softly, as a moment of silence enveloped them.

Josephine sucked in her lips and snorted.

“D-does he think?” Cullen began.

“No,” Josephine said quickly, hands returning to the threads on her sleeves, “He’s just…he’d done it once or twice. But Papa will have to get used to it if I’m to head the house and manage business affairs.”

Cullen dug his heel onto the ground.

“I see. And he would.”

“Don’t worry Cullen, Papa likes you,” Josephine assured, smiling.

Cullen returned the smile and nodded.

“That’s a big relief.”

“Well,” Josephine said, turning to go, “I should leave you to it. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow. If you need anything, please let me know.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Good night, Cullen,” she said, as she walked up the garden path.

“Good night, Josephine,” he called back.

 

Cullen closed the door softly and let himself fall onto the bed. He’d still felt shaky – from the boat, from the mouth-burning stew, from uprooting. But he can do this, he thought.

Josephine was here with him. He’ll be all right.


End file.
